


The Attraction Equation

by elfin



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Charlie's life is put in danger, Don rethinks their working relationship and their personal one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Attraction Equation

Having given instructions to Colby and David, Don hung back at the end of the corridor, hanging back, watching Larry with his brother, with his hand on Charlie’s arm, just a little intimacy between them.  “I would never, never abandon you.”  He heard Larry’s words and saw the touched smile on Charlie’s face.  

“I know.  I’m sorry I doubted you.”  Larry chuckled gently, his head lifted and although Don couldn’t see his expression, he could see his brother’s and it made him wonder, not for the first time, about the importance of Larry in Charlie’s life.  “Thank you, for... for saving my life.”

“Oh, I didn’t.  I just provided a distraction so your brother could take the shot.”

Don came forward then, dropped a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.  “You did good, Larry.”  The physicist jumped slightly, turned and gave him one of his famous self-effacing smiles.  

“I couldn’t let that man hurt Charlie,” he stated, as if Don needed the explanation.  

“I know.”  The feeling was mutual.  He could still feel the cold horror snaking around in his gut.  He didn’t think he would ever forget; rounding the corner and seeing Charlie caught in Mason’s grip, Mason’s pistol pushed up under his chin, his brother more scared than he’d ever seen him. 

Reaching for Charlie too, he squeezed his shoulder before letting his hand slide down his arm, feeling him still trembling.  “Let’s get you home, Charlie.”  The team were still there, within the perimeter of the crime scene tape, Mason’s body still prone at its centre.  There’d be paperwork, an interview, visit to the shrink – standard procedure when dealing with a shooting.  But no one was going to blame him for putting a bullet in Mason’s brain.  David and Larry were witnesses and Colby could attest to Charlie being taken hostage.  No one was going to question him shooting a guy who was threatening his younger brother’s life.

Don invited Larry back to the house, and he looked relieved, like he needed to stay close.  Don understood that.

 

He drove, glancing into the mirror more than he usually would have; watching Charlie side-on in the back seat, facing Larry who was talking quietly, maths stuff as far as Don could make out, soothing him in his own way.  

He’d phoned ahead, so when they arrived Dad had the kettle on and some food prepared.  Don had told him what had happened so that Charlie didn’t have to relive it over again any more than he was going to have to with the FBI, but it meant that when they got to the house, their father was waiting anxiously to check his youngest son was all right.

As soon as Alan freed him, Charlie disappeared into the house, heading upstairs.  They heard the shower in the bathroom start up a couple of minutes later and Larry collapsed into a chair at the table while Don fetched a couple of beers and checked on the rolls that were warming in the oven.

“Who was it, Don?”  Not an unexpected question and Don leaned against the cabinet, took a swig of beer and told his father about William Mason, an ex-Professor whose rampage through the Physics facility at CalSci had started with the simple destruction of property and had escalated when somehow he’d got his hands on an old pistol from one of the professors’ offices.  He’d already shot two students, albeit not fatally, before grabbing Charlie as the police, called by campus security, and the FBI called by Larry had arrived to surround him.  Fast negotiations didn’t go well and that’s when Larry had created his diversion.  As Mason’s shouting had become more frenetic and his trigger finger started to tighten and loosen like a bad twitch, Larry had grabbed a fire axe from the nearby blast lab and smashed a classroom window.  In the moment Mason had turned to look towards the breaking glass, Don had shot him, moving in time to catch Charlie as he’d half-run, half-fallen away from Mason.

He didn’t tell Alan how he’d held Charlie so tight, how hard his heart had been thudding inside his ribcage, how scared he’d been that Mason was going to pull the trigger, blow Charlie’s incredible brains over the walls of his own university, in the place where he felt the safest and most appreciated, most adored.  It made him feel sick, and as he finished the recap, he put his beer down on the cabinet and ran upstairs, finding Charlie half-dressed in his bedroom and wrapping him up in a hug without speaking.  He hoped it said everything he couldn’t put into words, and he thought it probably did, as Charlie hugged him back and he caught the words, “me too, Don,” when he finally loosened his arms and stepped back.

 

They ate; Larry and Alan talking about the ongoing golf competition airing on cable, Charlie unusually but understandably quiet, Don watching him.  Afterwards, Larry helped Alan clear up, loading the dishwasher while Charlie sunk into the sofa and Don settled in next to him, finding a game on cable, letting it just play out in front of them.  In the short time before Alan and Larry rejoined them, Charlie fell asleep, leaning heavily against Don’s side so that it was easy to drop a light arm across his shoulders.

The three of them watched the game, not really paying attention to it, and the analysis afterwards until the clock in the hall struck midnight and Alan turned in, pointedly looking at Don until he promised Charlie wouldn’t be left alone tonight.  Don thought Larry must have fallen asleep in his chair, but when they heard Alan’s bedroom door close for the second time, the man opened his eyes.

“I feel like I instigated a man’s death tonight,” he said, like he was discussing the result of the game.  Don lifted his head from where it had fallen against Charlie’s and replied, 

“It wasn’t going to end any other way.  We weren’t going to let him shoot Charlie, any of us.  You gave me a clear shot, Larry, but I was the one that killed him and believe me it isn’t going to keep me awake at night.”

Larry appeared to accept that.  “You know that Charlie has been the most important... person, the greatest achievement, in my entire life.  I would do... anything to prevent him from getting hurt in any way – physically, emotionally, professionally....  Sometimes I think he’s the only reason I stay here, keep teaching.  Sometimes I contemplate leaving, then he comes to me with a problem or asks me for advice and I know I’ll never be able to to not be there for him.”

Don was touched but he’d never been surprised at the level of devotion his brother inspired in others.  At first, when they’d started to work together, when he’d started to see Charlie as something other than his pain-in-the-ass-genius-brother, he’d honestly been stunned by him.  And he knew David and Colby were.  Now it no longer surprised him because he felt it too, devotion so strong it often threatened to rule his judgement and steer his life.  His career was so entwined with his brother now that any alternative to working alongside Charlie was unthinkable.  

“You’re his best friend, Larry,” Don murmured.  “When you went up to the space station he went to pieces.  I think the idea of you not being there... it had never occurred to him before.  I know he tries not to take you for granted now but you’re... you’re a huge part of his life, his support system – you, me, Dad, Amita.  Even David and Colby.  But when he talks to you, you don’t glaze over like the rest of us do, you speak his language and he can talk to you without having to translate, without having to dumb it down all the time, so... I mean, I’d say you were more important to him at least than me....”

Larry was shaking his head suddenly, waggling his finger in denial.  “Oh no.  I don’t think you have any idea how much he worships you.”  Larry sat forward.  “He... loves you, Don.   He’s always looked up to his big brother, all the time I’ve known him.  He’s been so proud of you.  You said he was upset when I went into space.  But since you two started to work together, he’s been happy.  And even though it interferes with his work, his Math, what I used to think of as his destiny... as long as he’s happy, I would never suggest he gives it up.”  Taking a deep breath as if the conversation had taken his remaining energy, he put his hands on his knees.  “Would you mind if I stayed over tonight?”

Don shook his head.  “Of course not.  Take one of the guest rooms.”

“Thank you.”  He pushed to his feet and for a second, Don thought he might touch Charlie, or even bend to kiss his forehead, but instead, he just whispered goodnight to him and headed upstairs.  He thought he should try to get Charlie to bed too, but there was time and it was a long while since he’d been a comfort like this to his brother.  An earlier thought re-entered his mind and turning his face into Charlie’s tight curls, he pressed a kiss to his head, breathing in ginger shampoo and chalk dust, a smell that had always been Charlie.  He tightened his arm around the narrow shoulders and swept his hand over Charlie’s hair.  

Unfortunately his movements woke Charlie and large eyes, black rimmed with brown, looked at him.  He felt a tightening in his chest, feelings he was just getting used to where his brother was concerned; swapping annoyance for patience, jealousy for admiration, frustration for love.  “You okay, Chuck?”  He kept his tone gentle, but hoped the use of the hated nickname would provoke a response.  Instead, Charlie shook his head.

“I... I was so scared.”

He spread his fingers over Charlie’s shoulder, rubbing the top of his arm.  “I know.  And that’s the right response.  I’d be worried if you hadn’t been.”

“I never wanted to be scared there.  CalSci’s my... sanctuary, where I go when I don’t want your world to touch me.”  Don nodded, guilt piling on top of guilt even though this incident had nothing to do with his or Charlie’s work for the FBI.  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again.”

“No, Charlie....”  He tried to think, tried to work out how he’d help any other victim of violence.  But then, Charlie wasn’t just any other victim.  He sat back just slightly, so that he could watch his brother’s face.  “Listen.  What are the odds of another CalSci professor losing it like that?”

Charlie’s mouth opened then closed again, and Don reckoned he could see his brother’s analytical brain naturally taking over, working out the number of professors in the entire faculty, the chances of them having a nervous breakdown within the university walls.  “Several thousand to one,” he answered eventually.

“And what are the odds that if another professor did lose it, that he’d get his hands on an old army pistol, and then run into you before someone else stopped him?”

He watched as his brother’s brain processed the numbers.  “The odds are... they’re very, very small.”  No detail, no actual figures which told Don more about Charlie’s state of mind than any other physical sign because he undoubtedly knew them.  

“Don’t let this one man destroy what you’ve built for yourself.  Like you didn’t allow the shooting at the FBI to stop you from spending time at my office.”  Charlie’s nod, however small, gives Don hope.  “Think if we get you in bed, you’ll sleep?”

“Don – I don’t want to be on my own right now.  So... can we just stay here?”

“I’m getting too old to sleep on the couch, so how about we share a bed instead?”  On anyone other than Charlie it would have been the worst line ever.  But Charlie’s shrug was testament to the fact that they’d shared a hundred times before, just maybe not in the last ten years.  

“If you’re sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure, Chuck.” He patted his brother’s shoulder, pushing gently and following Charlie to his feet.  Switching off the lights he let Charlie lead the way up the stairs and into his room.  

He called David while Charlie was in the bathroom, checking in with his team.  Everything was okay at their end, David reassured him, was Charlie okay at his?

As well as we can expect, was Don’s response; shaken, scared, but they’d make sure he got through it.  

Too right, David confirmed, he was a valuable asset.  And a good friend.  Nothing Don was about to argue with, although as he hung up and Charlie stepped out of the bathroom, undressing as he moved, he balked at the description of his younger brother as an asset even as he wondered how many people thought of him in that way.

He went into the bathroom and when he came out Charlie was under the sheets, turned away from him towards the window.  Stripping to his boxers, he turned off the bedside light and joined him, leaving a good foot of space between them but letting his hand rest on the sheets covering the bump of his hip.  “Not alone, Charlie,” he whispered softly, and he heard a thank you of sorts.  He wasn’t sure who fell asleep first, but when he woke in the morning he was much closer to his brother than he was when he went off.

The early morning sunlight was shining through the crack in the dark blue curtains as Don rose from his dream of colours and sounds and found himself flush to Charlie’s back; warm, comfortable, and hard.  Just the thin material of his boxer shorts between his dick and the crack of his brother’s ass.  He shifted back as soon as he was in control of his muscles but it was too late.  Charlie was awake and was shifting away from him.

“Charlie,” he mumbled, “buddy, I’m sorry, I’m... I...”

Charlie waved a hand in the air, waving his apology away.  “Relax, brother mine.”  He swung his legs from the mattress.  “Someone threatened to kill me yesterday.  I’m not going to be freaked out by your morning wood.”  

Don watched him pad naked across the room, heading for the en suite.  “You slept in the same bed with me naked?”  But Charlie was already in the bathroom.

#

“Don?”  Alan walked in on him making coffee in the kitchen.  “Did you and Charlie manage to get some sleep?”

For a second Don let his hands drop to the counter, still embarrassed.  “Yeah.  He didn’t want to be alone so I crashed with him.”  He felt a desperate urge to change the subject.  “You know, Dad, even if this attack wasn’t related to a case... when he was run off the road last year it was because of his work with me.  And when he was almost shot by that sniper, and the attack at the office....  I put him in danger.” 

Alan pulled out at stool from under the table and sat down.  “Donnie... as much as I sometimes wish he’d stayed within the safe confines of teaching, yesterday proved even then it would just be an illusion.  Real life gets everywhere.  And you know, I worry just as much about you.”

“But I’m trained.  I carry a badge and a gun and I know how to protect myself.”

“So maybe getting some training for Charlie might be a good idea.”  

Don nodded.  “Yeah.  I mean, he’s taken self-defence classes.”

“Which won’t help if someone’s shooting at him.”

“I can get him weapons training, Dad,” he smiled at the mental image, “but I don’t think a professor should be carrying, do you?”  He made two mugs of coffee and put one down in front of each of them.  “I’ve tried suggesting he stops getting so involved, but you know what he’s like.”

“Like I said before, he loves working with you.  This is the closest he’s ever been to you, he won’t let that go easily, certainly not for his own safety’s sake.”

Picking up his coffee mug, Alan’s words actually sunk in.  “Dad... we’re not just friends now because we work together.”  His Dad’s expression implied otherwise and Don sat back, stunned.  “Is that what you think?”  Worse.  “Is that what Charlie thinks?”

 

He found his brother in the garage, sitting cross legged on one of the tables, moving a new stick of chalk back and forth through his fingers, blackboards surrounding him filled with his cognitive emergence theory work, writing that meant nothing to Don but that didn’t stop him from wanting to understand.  He made sure he put himself in Charlie’s line of sight before squeezing his shoulder.

“Hey, Don....”  If he wanted to say anything about the morning, he didn’t.  

“Listen, Charlie....”  He perched on the edge of the other chalk-dust covered table.  “You know, you’re my brother and... and my friend.  Even if we weren’t working together....”  Charlie stopped him mid-sentence by snapping the chalk in half and throwing it petulantly to the floor.

“Every time something happens, you and Dad you both come out with all this crap about me quitting my work with the FBI and sticking to teaching!  Don, I consult with the NSA, with the CIA, Homeland Security....  Yesterday wasn’t anything to do with my work with my FBI....”

“Whoa!”  Don held up his hands with a smile.  “I know, Chuck!  That wasn’t what I was going to say.  I know Dad would be happier if you weren’t working with me, but you’re an integral member of my team and I wouldn’t – couldn’t – do my job without you.”

Charlie looked down at the pieces of chalk on the floor.  “Oh.”

Leaning forward, reaching out, Don touched Charlie’s arm.  “I just wanted to say that even if you and I weren’t working together, we’d still be friends.”

To his heartfelt shame, Charlie’s expression was the same as their Dad’s had been.  “Come on, Don.  You... never spent any time with me before.  I’m a Maths professor, you’re an FBI agent!  If we weren’t working together when would our paths ever cross?”

“Charlie... I know, before, we had our problems.  But we’re friends now, and I value that.  You’ve no idea how much I value that.  I would make time for you, buddy.  I swear, it’s different now.”  The stark hope in those big brown eyes was almost heartbreaking.  He’d had no idea this was what Charlie thought.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it!  I’m here all the time, right?  Even if the FBI didn’t give us a reason to spend time together, I’d find a reason.  I’d probably treat this place more like my home than I already do – come in at all hours of the night and morning, eat all your groceries, drink all your beer, forget to take the trash out.”  There was a smile on Charlie’s face now and Don smiled too.  “I love you, Charlie.  I know I don’t tell you enough,” he knew by the shocked expression, “if ever.  But I do.  You’re the most important part of my life and I don’t want you to forget that, not ever.”  One minute he was watching his brother light up like a roman candle, the next Charlie was with him, arms wrapped around his neck like he was a ten year old kid again thanking his brother for the tiniest slice of affection.  Except that this time Don didn’t push him away with embarrassment.  

This time he wrapped his arms around this fully-grown, thirty-one year old and held him tight, rubbing one bare foot against his denim-clothed leg.  He could feel Charlie’s breath against his neck, soft curls against his face and spreading his fingers over Charlie’s back he pushed the fingers of his other hand into the dark hair.  And that’s how they stood for a long time, Charlie between Don’s legs, holding one another.  Don let his hand slip to the back of Charlie’s neck, under his curls, thumb tracing the base of his skull, parting his lips just slightly, forming a kiss to his head.  And with that simple, innocent gesture, the nature of the hug was suddenly, subtly altered.  Charlie felt it too, he was sure, because the touch to his back changed into something more intimate, the breath against his throat became something different, it felt as if a gentle electric current had passed between them and when he untangled himself, Charlie’s hands rested on his shoulders and he looked embarrassed as hell.

Don wasn’t about to let his brother leave like that, kept his hands at the narrow waist, holding him there.  But while he could stare down the barrel of a loaded gun without blinking or chase down a suspect armed with a blade, he’d never been one to face his own feelings.  He was changing the subject, and they both knew it.  “Are you going back to CalSci today?”

Fingers restless on Don’s shoulders, Charlie nodded.  “I doubt Larry’ll let me out of his sight, you don’t need to worry.”

“You won’t blame me if I don’t let that comfort me.”  But he kept his tone light and it earned him a wry smile.  He spread his fingers over Charlie’s hips, over the soft material of his old jeans, index fingers sneaking over the waistband and feeling the heat of skin through the thin blue cotton shirt.  

“Don....”  There was an unspoken question behind his name, one he couldn’t possible hope to answer, so instead he let his hands fall away and Charlie too broke the physical connection, stepping back from him.  “Will you come over tonight, no matter what time it is?”  Against his better judgement, he nodded.  “Promise.”  As quiet as the word was, it was forceful.

Don swore softly.  “I promise.”

#

When he arrived at the office, everyone wanted to know that Charlie was okay.  He reassured them all, particularly Colby who seemed to be as worried about his brother as Don had been the previous night.  And like that was a surprise.  Because Don had suspected for a while that Colby harboured some kind of crush on Charlie, ever since he’d talked him into opening up after asshole Richard Taylor had had him run off the road and shot at.  He remembered feeling jealous about that, but he’d only had himself to blame; he hadn’t had time for Charlie then, but Colby had.  Charlie opening up to him had his been his reward, and it was something Don would never be able to go back and take for himself, however much he wanted to.

Back then he’d been irrationally jealous, but he knew he and Charlie had something – had always had something - that would never be shared by anyone else.  Something... indefinable.  

“He’s okay,” he reassured Colby, a hand on his arm.  “It’ll just take some time.  He needs routine, needs to be teaching, to be working.”  

Colby nodded, obviously relieved.  “I thought I’d take him lunch later,” he blurted out, and Don found himself smiling.  

“Good idea.”  Patted his arm and left him standing between their desks as he headed for the kitchen and the coffee machine.  Something had happened between he and Charlie this morning, and whatever it was, Colby dropping by CalSci with coffee and a sandwich wasn’t going to change that.  As long as Don didn’t think too hard about what it was that had changed, he thought he’d be okay.

#

Larry found Charlie in his office, sitting in his chair with his head back, staring up at the ceiling panels.  At first he thought his brightest student was reliving his nightmare of the day before but then he saw the papers on his desk, the pen in his hand – blue ink, never red – and finally the expression on his face which was one of curiosity rather than fear.

“Charlie?”  He sat up so suddenly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t which maybe he had – day dreaming instead of marking mid-terms.  “Is everything all right?  Sorry, of course... of course it’s not all right.  After yesterday....”

“It’s fine, Larry.  I’m fine.”  Rubbing his lips with his knuckle, Larry made himself comfortable in the chair on the other side of the desk.  “Thank you, for yesterday, for what you did.”

He shook his head.  “All I did was break a window,” he affirmed, “your brother did the rest.”

“Yeah, Don was... he stayed with me, last night.  And you stayed.  Thank you.”  Larry felt himself blushing even though he didn’t know why.  “Thank you for everything.”

The tone surprised him and he snapped himself out of his own revere, sitting forward and really looking at Charlie for the first time that morning.  “You’re not planning on doing anything... like leaving, are you?”

Charlie laughed, and to Larry’s surprise his relief was palpable.  He’d left Charlie for the space station, and then even when he was home he really wasn’t, not for a long time.  Since then he’d been so uncertain of his place in the university, even of his place on the planet.  He didn’t realise how much he might have been hurting Charlie with his own uncertainty.

Shaking his head, Charlie said, “No.  Don and I have just found a common ground, after an age, I’m not about to throw that away because Mason went crazy and tried to use me as a shield....”  His voice cracked on the final few words and Larry finally saw the wound, sticky plasters holding the edges together.

“Last time, Charlie, when that businessman tried to have you killed, did you see a counsellor?”

“Yeah, Don made me go to the FBI shrink.”  He linked his fingers and rested his chin on them.  “I went once.  He didn’t say anything Colby hadn’t already.”

“Do you think maybe it would be a good idea to see him again?”

He watched Charlie shrug.  “Maybe.”  It was obvious that there was something he wasn’t saying, because even in times of high stress Charlie talked in details and right now he was giving anything but.  

Before Larry could quiz him on that, however, they were both startled by a knock on the glass in the door and turned to see Colby standing with a cardboard tray of wrapped sandwiches, coffees and cookies.

Charlie sat up, Larry glancing between he and the FBI agent, considering for a moment before he said, “Maybe the FBI could afford Charlie a break after what happened yesterday before asking him to consult on yet more violence....”

Stepping into the office, Colby put the tray down on the desk and held up his hands in his own defence.  “I’m not here officially, I’m just bringing lunch.”

He watched Charlie visibly relax and he did too, leaning over to find out what Colby had brought – fresh skimmed milk for him, a latte for Amita, who as Charlie told Colby, “she’s teaching classes today”, Charlie’s favourite vanilla latte.  Sandwiches were mozzarella on white, pastrami and mustard on rye, Swiss on wholemeal and a steak and onions baguette which Colby snatched up with a coffee, sat up on the desk and proceeded to unwrap.

It seemed generous if slightly strange, but Larry wasn’t about to say no.  “You remembered my predilection for white food.”  He was impressed and a little bit suspicious.  It was a guarantee that this wasn’t all for his benefit but a few moments of watching Charlie told him his friend was none the wiser.  If something was going on, Charlie was unaware of it.  Still, they had a genial chat about nothing in particular, absolutely nothing about any case.  Amita stopped by in answer to Charlie’s text and grabbed her lunch with a grateful and equally surprised ‘thank you’ for Colby, and after an hour passed, he left with a smile and a line to Charlie telling him if he ever needed to talk, he knew where to find him.

And that left Larry and Charlie wondering what had just happened.   

#

Unusually, Don got home (Charlie’s home) at a fairly reasonable hour – too late for dinner but he grabbed a plate of cold lasagne and a couple of slices of bread and settled into an easy chair close to where Charlie was marking papers, the television showing some old black and white cowboy movie with the sound turned down.  

Charlie didn’t do much more than smile up at him and mutter a greeting until Don was settled and then when he’d apparently finished marking the paper he’d been working on, he put the entire pile down and pointed his pencil in Don’s direction.  “Hey, did you know that Colby brought over lunch to my office today?”

Don couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Yeah, he said he was going to take you lunch.”

“Not just me, Larry and Amita too.”

“Well, they do say the way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach.”  It was supposed to be a joke, but by the expression on Charlie’s face it didn’t get across that way.

“Heart?  Are you saying Colby’s... um....”

“It’s just a crush, Charlie,” Don reassured.  “He’ll get over it.  He has this thing for damsels in distress.”

Charlie’s eyes widened and he sat up, swinging his feet from the foot stool to the floor.  “Are you calling me a... a damsel?!”

Don tried to wipe the smile off his face somewhat unsuccessfully.  “It’s just his thing.  And you know, you’re kinda... with the big eyes....”  He saw the anger growing in those big eyes and stopped.  “I’m kidding, Charlie!”

Charlie sat forward, joining his hands.  “But... Colby has a crush on me?  I didn’t even know he was....”

“He’s an open-minded guy.”  The lasagne was surprisingly good; he was surprised at how hungry he was.  

“I had no idea.”  Charlie looked shell-shocked and Don almost regretted telling him.  Now the next time Colby dropped lunch into CalSci or went over on an official visit, Charlie was just going to feel awkward.  But no way could he have left his brother defenceless against a trained agent.  Colby would have eaten him for breakfast and Don wouldn’t, couldn’t allow that.  In fact, the idea of Colby, of any guy, with his hands on Charlie brought back that creeping jealousy in his stomach.  “What the hell am I supposed to say to him?”  Okay, so maybe it had been a mistake to open his mouth.

He finished his dinner and put the plate down on the floor.  Then he tried to make up for sucking on his size 9s.  “You’re a genius, you know that, right?  You know you do things with our data that we’ve never even considered and that makes you very attractive.  And amazing in many people’s eyes, including mine.”

“That presumably doesn’t mean your entire office wants in my pants.”  He sounded so rueful that Don definitely wasn’t going to laugh.  He tried to think if anyone he worked with would kick Charlie out of bed; probably David.  Not the women, that was for sure.  And that prompted the obvious follow-up; would he?  Yesterday morning he would absolutely, definitely have said yes!  But this morning, out in the garage... he didn’t know now if this was something that had always been waiting to happen to them or if he’d suddenly seen Charlie in a different light, the one that presumably Colby was seeing him by.  Only Charlie was his brother and that meant while Colby was free to see if he could sweet talk the Maths genius into bed, Don couldn’t.  Shouldn’t.  Absolutely should not.  He lifted his head and caught his breath; Charlie was staring at him, leaning forward too, waiting for an answer to a question Don couldn’t even remember.  “What?”

“I’m assuming,” he repeated, voice suspiciously low, “that not everyone in your office wants to sleep with me?”

Don swallowed.  “Right.  You’re right.  You’re not David’s type.”

“I’m not David’s type?”  There was an incredulous note underlying the smile in his voice as he licked his lips.  “Don?”  He really wished he knew what the hell was going on with himself.  He’d watched that flick of Charlie’s tongue over his lips and Charlie had seen it.  His brother.  His goddamn brother.  A man who engendered more emotion and feeling within him than anyone ever had and he knew ever would.  Which still didn’t give him permission or validation to want to do the kind of things he was starting to think about.  “Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath and put his hands on his knees.  “Yeah, you know Charlie, I should go home, take out the trash, feed the fish....”

“You don’t have any fish.  Don, what’s going on?”

He bit his lip gently.  The thing with Charlie was that he would let Don get away with anything; Don knew his little brother worshipped him, had risked his neck for him, changed his life just to work with him.  This... Christ, this could be the end of them.  Or it could be the best sex of his life because his heart and soul would be so in on it.

A bunch of questions crowded into his mind, but the one that won out was, “Where’s Dad?” which only added to Charlie’s confusion.

“Dad?  He’s... in bed.  Why?  Just tell me what’s wrong.”  As he spoke, Charlie put a hand on Don’s arm, just below his wrist, and with no will power whatsoever, Don covered it with his own, stroking his palm over his brother’s fingers, gently tugging at each one in turn.  Then he looked up again, met those brown eyes and watched as realisation dawned.  “Oh.  Oh.”

“Don’t ask me why, Charlie, but yesterday I could have lost you and this morning....  Please tell me it’s wrong, tell me to go back to my apartment, tell me to get the hell away from you.”  It was cowardly, he knew, but it was all he had.  At the same time, he knew Charlie wouldn’t say or do any of those things.  What he wasn’t expecting was active encouragement, like Charlie dumping his mid-terms papers from the stool on to the carpet and moving on to his knees in front of him, hands on Don’s thighs, smile on his face.

“Wanna kiss me?” he asked, a dangerous tease in his quiet voice. 

Don nodded, keeping his own voice low.  “Wanna do lots of things to you, buddy.  And that’s so wrong....”

Instantly, Charlie was off his knees and on his feet, hands on his hips.  Despite his obvious frustration, he didn’t raise his voice.  “Either you do or you don’t.”

“I’m your brother...!”

“The whole of LA knows that.”  Charlie grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.  “And I wouldn’t change it for anything in the universe.  But I love you, and given the choice of anyone in your office, I’d choose you every time.”  Don wasn’t sure how he’d lost control of the situation as Charlie led him through into the garage, closing the door and bolting it.  

In the centre of the space, surrounded by blackboards, Don pulled on the hand holding his and turned them to face one another, letting Charlie’s fingers fall from his, settling his hands at the narrow waist.  Now those brown eyes, soft curls, shaved skin and long eyelashes were having a very different effect on him, stealing his breath and causing his blood to run south.  He let go of his doubts and spread his fingers, working them up under the thin cotton shirt and touching hot skin.

“God, you’re beautiful, Charlie.” 

His brother’s confidence was gone but Don guessed his curiosity and devotion to him were holding him in place.  Slowly, gently, he let his mouth touch Charlie’s, and in an instant all hesitation evaporated and they were grabbing at one another like desperate lovers; unfastening, undressing, everything that was once familiar so suddenly new.  Charlie tasted incredible, felt incredible under Don’s hands, responding and reciprocating to every touch, every kiss.  

Don got him over to the couch, kicked off his jeans and boxers and sank down, Charlie straddling him, naked and hard.  It was the perfect position, giving him freedom to touch and lick while Charlie’s long, agile fingers wrapped around them both and started jerking them off together in a slow, agonising rhythm.  No foreplay now.  He had a suspicion there had been a lot of it that he’d missed.  This was a side of Charlie that was unknown to him, completely hidden until now, a side he couldn’t have even guessed at.  But it wasn’t a surprise, so much focus and passion, all directed at him; utterly addictive, unfailingly intoxicating, so goddamn hot....  He was coming in minutes, despite Charlie’s lazy rhythm, despite not wanting it to be over so fast.  And Charlie was a second behind him, biting his lip to keep quiet, shuddering with his orgasm.

Don ran his hand up Charlie’s back, pulling him in, feeling sticky hands gripping his hips, hot breath at his neck.  “Love you, Chuck,” he murmured, the words coming naturally, “never think I don’t.”

Charlie lifted his head long enough to smile at him – happy, satisfied, grinning like a lunatic – before dropping it back to Don’s shoulder.

They cleaned up in the kitchen, quietly as they could so as not to wake their Dad, and dressed again loosely, mostly for appearances sake, before they stretched out on the couch, Charlie’s back to Don’s chest, Don’s hand inside his brother’s T-shirt, fingers spread over the centre of his chest.  He was well aware that this was something they’d need to talk about, but it could wait, at least until the morning, at least until they could find a place where it was just the two of them.  For tonight it was enough that they were together, and that he didn’t feel any guilt amongst the rest of the tumbling emotions.

#

Charlie waking woke Don, and as he sat up, all Don had to say was, “Let me take you to breakfast,” because if he let him go now he wasn’t sure he’d ever get him back.

To his relief but not his surprise, Charlie nodded.  They’d both been there last night, each into the other.  “I need a shower.”

“Meet me in the coffee shop around the corner from my apartment?”

“Sure.”  He gave a little shrug.  “An hour?”  It was easily agreed, and Don left through the back door, not wanting to risk running into their Dad, certain that if it wasn’t written all over his face he sure smelt of sex and the only other person in the house was Charlie.  

He showered and changed at his apartment, showering quickly but putting some small amount of thought into what he wore.  Not a suit, not a white shirt and dark tie, because he wasn’t dressing for work, he was dressing for his brother.  He didn’t want Charlie to breakfast with an FBI agent, he wanted to just be Don Eppes for this.  He pulled on black jeans and a simple dark shirt, leaving it open at the neck, combing his hair then running his fingers through it, trying to remember that this wasn’t a date, it was coffee and croissants with his young brother.  The man he’d spent the night with, naked and sweaty.  It still didn’t feel like he was bound for hell, didn’t feel like he – they - had done anything wrong.  In fact there was an excitement building inside him, an almost childish feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

His phone rang and he stopped, stopped moving, stopped breathing.  He knew it was work, a call into the office or to a crime scene.  Reaching for his cell, Don turned it off.  For once he was going to put Charlie first.

#

Charlie’s light blue Prius was already parked across from Don’s local coffee shop, an independent rather than a chain, but still local as in closest to his listed address, rather than anywhere he’d actually ever bought coffee from more than once.

It was the kind of coffee shop with leather sofas, low tables and shelves of books lining the walls.  On Tuesday and Thursday evenings they held open-mike sessions attracting unpublished authors and aspiring poets.  Don only knew this because there was a flyer on the wall next to the door as he walked in giving details.

Charlie was sitting at one end of a three-seater sofa directly under the window at the front of the shop.  A round black plastic tray holding two tall mugs of coffee and two muffins sat on the long, wide wooden table in front of him.  Even if someone took the opposite sofa, the table created enough distance that his and Charlie’s conversation would remain private.  Don was proud and impressed.

“Hey,” he gave his brother his usual greeting as he sat down in the other corner of the sofa, startling Charlie out of whatever thoughts had been occupying him and he sat forward, effectively closing the gap between them.

“Hey, Don.  They... didn’t have any croissants....”  

Don experienced a sudden and ridiculous urge to kiss him.  “This is great, Charlie, thank you,” he reassured, reaching for one of the coffee mugs if only so that it would ensure he kept his hands off his brother.  He wasn’t up to admitting that this change between them had been a long time coming; he wasn’t even sure he’d been aware of an attraction until the previous morning – just an ever-present passion in seeing him blossom, grow, become independent.  Last night had been Charlie’s decision too, and not one arising from that childhood need to impress his older brother or a need to have his attention.  After everything they’d been through, Charlie had proved that he could be wildly stubborn as well as fiercely loyal.  His commitment to Don was unquestioning and unconditional.  And that kind of devotion was incredibly attractive as well as potentially addictive.  Charlie would never leave him, never hurt him, at least not on purpose.  

He remembered holding Charlie as a baby, just home from the hospital three days after his birth.  And maybe, given that, what had happened between them should have felt wrong or sick, but it just didn’t.  His feelings for his brother just seemed to be filling him, almost overwhelming him.  He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face and Charlie was watching him, smiling too.

“What?”

Don shook his head, reached out to squeeze Charlie’s arm, lingering slightly longer than he needed to just to make his point.  “You know, I spent most of my childhood wishing you weren’t my brother.”  He murmured it quietly, just for the two of them.  “Now... I’m so proud to share the same name, the same blood, as you.”

“Even now?” Charlie sounded nervous but Don nodded emphatically.

“Even now.  Especially now.  Don’t ask me why but....  I know this won’t be easy and I know we’ll be at each other’s throats as much as we’re at each other’s dicks,” he caught Charlie’s quick glance up and smiled.  No one had heard them, he was keeping his voice down, keeping this intimate between them as it needed to be.  “We’re both good at keeping secrets and I’m not saying this should be exclusive, just that... just that I’ve never felt anything like this before – this intense attraction, this... love.”  Charlie might actually have been blushing.  “My hearts and my dick seem to be in agreement here,” he said softly, “and that’s very rare, I can assure you.”

Charlie smiled.  “I think I can agree to your terms,” he murmured and Don had to think about what he’d said to recall setting any.  “But I have one of my own.”  He nodded vaguely.  “Sex, even relationships, are fine, but either of us marries or moves in with someone, then it’s over.  If both of us make it to retirement, I want to share a home with you, I want to die living with you like some old queen.”  And Don laughed, nodding his agreement – he never figured he’d make it to retirement and he definitely couldn’t see himself wanting to get married, not if it meant losing Charlie. 

“Deal.”  His sipped his coffee, grinning at his brother’s happy, contented expression.  “I love you, Charlie,” he told him over the rim of the mug, and this time the eminent Mathematician definitely blushed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Published Fiction](http://www.madeleine-marsh.com/)


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